fill to me the parting glass
by imperfectandchaotic
Summary: [6th in the SYDG series] Caroline wants to ask him how much has changed between them - it seems somehow as though the tide is suddenly moving sideways and she doesn't know which way to swim.


**fill to me the parting glass**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Vampire Diaries

**Note:** It was originally going to include 3.20 reaction, but I decided it didn't fit. Oh Klaus. You better come back soon.

* * *

Why does this _always_ happen to her?

Caroline is nearly blind with pain. Evil Alaric is just sitting at his desk, _smirking_ at her. She wants to rip his throat out. She honestly can't blame Rebekah for high-tailing it out of there; their single untainted moment in the gym was never going to be enough to cause her to stay.

She wonders idly if the Original informed Klaus of her predicament.

She wonders how she would feel about that.

Caroline doesn't have long to ponder however, as Elena appears in the doorway and Caroline can't help but be spurned by the faintest flicker of hope. Because if Elena is here, duo Salvatore can't be far behind.

Perhaps their luck hasn't run out yet.

—

Caroline hates the whimpering mess this reduces her to. This is not pleading with her father, who is above all things supposed to love her, this is pleading with the shadowed shell of a man who feels no remorse whatsoever.

And yet she lets pitiful words fall from her scarred lips.

Because it _hurts._

She looks at Elena, staring down at her and holding that god damn stake, and for a moment Caroline slips, and thinks she might actually be killed by her best friend. And in that moment, for that fraction of a second, she considers being okay with that. She considers letting it be over, finally.

But then Elena smashes that jar of vervain and Alaric's screams shock her out of the most morbid thought she's had in ages.

"Get help."

And Caroline's one regret is not being able to pull her best friend out of that room with her.

—

She clears half the school and almost stumbles to a stop (the adrenaline is keeping her standing but it is so very cold all of a sudden), straining her ears for some kind of sound or signal—

A hand on her mouth, a warm body pressed against hers and she's already screaming muffled cries because _this cannot be happening again_—

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay (the pain flares sharp on her skin; she whimpers without even meaning to and the pressure disappears immediately) it's me, you're safe."

Caroline has never been quite so still in her entire life. She inhales (sun, spice, earth, _safe)._ His grip is firm around her waist (he's like a sun; her skin drinks it in). The rest of her senses are catching up. _You're safe_. While her mind insists on disagreeing her body is already ceasing the fight; the bewildering relief is so palpable in her throat that it feels like she might choke on it.

Klaus.

He came.

His hand is almost cradling her neck, so gently her brain can barely register the touch. Caroline has to force herself to focus on his next words lest her knees actually give out from under her.

"You go straight home, you stay inside, do you understand?"

Is she supposed to be able to say something?

Clearly dissatisfied with her silence, Klaus yanks her around to face him. "_Do you understand me_?"

The question is so low and scraped with what sounds too close to intent desperation that she nods without even commanding the action. She knows she should say something now, because their last exchange had been so heated and he's certainly about to face death (though a part of her still believes Klaus to be indestructible) and she's not sure which idea frightens her more.

He looks...angry. Upset. At her? For what, for almost getting herself killed? But that would mean he cares, still.

Does he?

Caroline wishes she had the words and the courage to ask.

She should say something because this marks his third life-saving intervention and if nothing else she owes him thanks, but there should be more, shouldn't there? There should be something for the way looks at her, even now, even amidst his anger and her own rebukes (and _Tyler),_ something for a bracelet and a drawing and a blanket she keeps locked away, all the things they have not yet said.

Caroline wants to ask him how much has changed between them - it seems somehow as though the tide is suddenly moving sideways and she doesn't know which way to swim.

But there doesn't seem to be time for anything other than the weakest "Thank you."

It's not enough.

Klaus' eyes bore into hers (a flicker of familiar at the edges, like rays of light trying to cut through the dark) and rove over her face, like he's trying to touch every inch of her with only his eyes, to imprint her image in his memory (later she'll wonder if he knew that it would be the last time they ever laid eyes on one another and hate him for not passing along the memo).

He inhales, like he's about to say something, but nothing comes and Caroline is left only with the other half of his breath mingling with hers.

It is cold again.

—

She makes it to the doorway of her room before sinking to the floor and bursting into tears.

—

In the back of her mind she knows she should probably call Tyler or something, but she is stuck, curled up on her bed staring listlessly at the wall. Is Elena okay? Caroline has no idea.

Someone knocks on the door.

A part of Caroline too large to admit hopes that it's Klaus.

It's Bonnie.

"It's done," she says, and something lurches in Caroline's gut at the unadulterated triumph in her voice. "Klaus is desiccated."

The tide stills altogether.

—

Caroline has to call on her most deep seeded powers of pep, rallying her friends to the Gilbert house to await their fearless Savior and the men who will raise hell and high water to keep her safe. Elena's alive.

_Alive,_ she tells herself. _Alive, alive, alive._

It matters more. It has to matter more.

"I've lost so many people, I can't bear the thought of losing one of you."

Her heart sinks. _Oh Elena._

"We'll call you from the road. After we dump Klaus' body in the Atlantic."

_Keep it together Caroline, come on._

She hands her best friend a shot of tequila, gives her some unsolicited advice, and tries not to flinch when Tyler's arm winds around her waist. He's alive. He'll remain alive, as long as Klaus hinges at near death. That should make her happy. And she _is._

Happy.

She loves Tyler, knows it with her whole heart. There's just an undercurrent of something she can't quite shake.

"Do you guys hear that?"

Try as she might, Caroline cannot extinguish the nameless emotion that rises up with the fear.

"It's the sound of a Klaus-free life."

The tequila burns on the way down.

—

She begs off Tyler's company that night, claiming exhaustion, which technically isn't even a lie. Caroline is back in her room, staring at the ceiling when it happens. She isn't sure what triggered the action, or if there even was a catalyst. But the next thing she knows is the gathering dark, a long stretch of road, and a bundle of items in the backseat.

It's foolish to think she can drive all the way to the Atlantic - Stefan and Damon probably haven't even reached it yet, and they've had hours of a head start.

Caroline passes the _Welcome to Mystic Falls!_ sign and just keeps driving. Eventually, she turns down a dirt road, the "blink and you'll miss it" kind of road, that doesn't seem to have seen any traffic in some time. Caroline herself hasn't used it in years - not since her dad left.

Ten more minutes through a tangle of woods and she's arrived.

The lake isn't a far cry from the swimming hole in Mystic Falls, though the mist ghosting from its surface and the stillness of the cattails at its edge are simultaneously haunting and comforting. She thinks of picnics and the small family of ducks that used to live here; the smell of the earth is so deep it is almost overpowering.

Caroline sits on the tiny dock and stares out into the darkness.

"I should be happy," she tells him (still there despite everything and she doesn't know how that makes her feel). "I should be happy that you're gone but I…this—this isn't fair!"

She wants to shake her fist, or stomp her feet, because— "I was supposed to hate you! You were supposed to be the big bad Original, you went around trying to kill all my friends, you didn't get to be sad, or kind, you weren't supposed to have _feelings,_ you weren't supposed to want to say g—"

The word breaks off in her throat.

"_Why can't I just hate you_?"

No one answers. There is no sudden gust of wind, no rustle in the grass, no sign at all to prove that she isn't, right now, so desperately alone.

With trembling hands Caroline drops the bracelet (still glittering in the moonlight like some ethereal thing) into a glass jar, rolls up the drawing (after tracing her fingers over it one last time) and seals them both inside with the lid. Underneath the rickety dock is a beat up old tackle box, in which she and her father have hid treasure since she was very small.

She was going to burn the drawing - there's a lighter in her pocket even, but that seems so cold, and Caroline is selfish enough to want to at least hang onto the existence of this version of herself she wants so badly to be seen by others.

Others besides Klaus.

Caroline slides the box back beneath the dock, back into the hole she dug all by herself when she was six and takes a breath.

She supposes she should feel something, something other than this sharp pain—lighter perhaps?

Caroline wonders how many centuries she will have to live before she is free of him.

—

She is halfway back to her house before Caroline remembers the blanket, tucked beneath the backseat.

She does not go back.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Because her weird delight at Elena's was too jarring and because I refuse to believe that Klaroline was introduced so poignantly to be forgotten.

Because he's not technically _dead._

Ugh haven't written in ages. Thoughts?

Annie


End file.
